Public Enemies (6 page)

But before I could press the point, the shadows dispersed to normal levels and the strobe stopped. I blinked, repeatedly, adapting to the candlelight. It was hard to tell what was costume and what was reality, though even if something seemed human, it probably wasn't. The strong smell I'd noticed outside intensified; it reminded me of a deep, dark wood, dense with trees and ancient things, unknowable but earthy too. It also held the essence of a storm—lightning splitting the sky, ozone, dirt, and decay—wrapped around a desiccated bone.

Then the Harbinger appeared before us, defying gravity in a slow drift to a dais I hadn't noticed. This time, he was dressed as a mad harlequin, complete with belled hat and pointy shoes. His hair hung in multiple braids, each adorned with some crazy icon. The cat statue had vanished, and in its place, he carried a carved walking stick topped with a dog head.

I pressed closer to Kian, who was watching the show. He wrapped an arm around me in response but he never looked away from our benefactor. A show of respect, maybe. I followed his example and waited to see what would happen next.

“All of my esteemed guests have now arrived,” the Harbinger said. “Which means the entertainment can proceed.” That prompted a wave of applause, and like any good showman, our host paused to permit the revelry. He went on, “There stands among us one who is willing to die for love.”

Hysterical laughter echoed throughout the room, gaining volume until it assaulted my eardrums in maniacal crescendo. Four creatures slunk toward us, until it was all I could do not to slap them away. I'd been told not to draw attention to myself, and starting a fight would definitely qualify. My eyes couldn't decide what they looked like—sometimes they were arachnid and other times they were feathered head to toe like avian demons. There was probably some awful story to explain their creation, but I was more concerned with keeping them from touching me.

I'd learned my lesson with the thin man.

The Harbinger continued the show, once the derision subsided. “I think we can all agree that such a one must be honored tonight, for there
is
no greater fool than that.”

“Crown the king!” came the thunderous response.

What the hell.
I remembered something, but so many hands were already pulling at Kian, tugging him away from me and toward the dais. The chant gained ground, coming in hisses and moans, ecstatic screams and hoarse croaks. Kian tried to fight the mob's will, but our hold broke and then there was only the endless tide of monsters surrounding me.

I went up on tiptoes to watch him being shoved upward until he was standing at the Harbinger's side. He clapped Kian on the shoulder. “Tonight, you are king and I, your fool.” To the audience, he added, “Behold your liege, the Lord of Misrule.”

Four pairs of hands settled on my shoulders, keeping me from moving toward the stage. I tried to shake them off, but the more I struggled, the less it seemed worth it. My mind went strange, fuzzy and indistinct. The scent of cut flowers filled my head and I relaxed. Suddenly, this seemed like the best party I'd ever attended.

“Kian is really hot,” I told one of the shadows nearby.

It drew me close with a whisper I didn't catch.
Seems really important. I should—

“What would you have me do, sire?” The Harbinger broke the spell, and something slithered away from me with a frustrated snarl.

But I was shaky as hell, like I'd gone days without eating, and my mouth was dry as a bone. When I touched my lips with trembling fingertips, they felt like leather.
How long have I been here?

“I led the procession, like you wanted,” Kian said.
What? I don't remember that at all.
“Now I need to find Edie.”

“Ah, yes. Your beloved queen. Go to her, then. I'm certain sure she's unharmed.”

I suspected his definition and mine were much different. The crowd gave way, letting me meet Kian halfway. He wrapped his arms around me, and I smelled blood on him. His shirt was stained dark with it, and his beautiful face bore streaks of grime. When he lifted a hand to touch my cheek, I saw that his knuckles were scraped raw.

Damn.
I didn't even know what to ask.

He beat me to it, swearing viciously. “Something fed on you.”

I stared up at him, confused. “Are you sure?”

Reflexively I flinched when he touched a sore spot on my neck. “Yeah. Right here.”

That was when I realized I wasn't wearing my coat … or the dress I had on before. But sadly, starting with that lost time, my Feast of Fools troubles had only just begun.

 

DEATH MATCHES ARE NOT PARTY GAMES

A smoothly sinister voice spoke from behind me. “Introduce us.”

Kian kept his arm around me as we turned. I still hadn't recovered from realizing I couldn't remember what happened; it was too soon for another complication, but from Kian's expression, I didn't have a choice. The person who'd addressed us, well, he was radiant. There was simply no other word. Garbed in shades of bronze and gold, he should've looked tawdry, gaudy even, but instead he radiated an aura of majesty. I fidgeted, as if I were staring into the sun.

Unlike the Harbinger, I had no problem focusing on these princely features. Everything about him was beautiful, perfectly sculpted. Hollywood would instantly plaster his face all over billboards and make him model underwear, if they ever saw him. But this creature also radiated an uncomfortable heat. Sweat broke out on my forehead and beneath my armpits the longer he looked at me without speaking.

Finally Kian said, “This is Edie.”

I wasn't sure if that was the best move, but unless they were asking for your head on a stick, maybe it was best to be polite? Somehow I managed a sickly smile. It made my cheeks feel swollen and my lips felt like they might crack. My throat was so dry I could hardly swallow.

“You need to take better care of her.” So far the creature hadn't addressed me.

I was mesmerized by the inhuman spikes of hair that somehow looked more like precious metal. Even his eyes were golden. As if reading my mind, he swiveled his head in my direction, reminiscent of a hunting hawk. The intensity of that stare rocked me back a step.

“She's protected,” Kian replied.

A graceful gesture, indicating disbelief. “And you trust her to that one?”

I followed his gaze to the Harbinger, spinning madly across the room, for no reason I could discern. It did seem like a bad bargain, but if there had been anyone more powerful, who wasn't also part of the game, Kian would've approached him instead. Sparks of light prickled in my field of vision, giving the creature before me an odd ambient glow.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice sounded strange.

“Dwyer.” I rasped out my best guess. “Formerly known by many names, most of whom were sun gods.”

The resultant smile was blinding. “I see why you treasure her,” he said to Kian. When he turned to me again, his face fell like sunset, darkening, threaded with orange and scarlet, bright notes amid the shadows. “Mark me. I will destroy you.” He might've been commenting on the weather. There was no malice, no hostility, and that made it worse.

Anything I said would sound like bravado because I had no idea what his weaknesses might be. He had so much power, and I felt like a flea in comparison. Once human belief created such a creature, I understood why they'd worshipped him. Even knowing the truth of his origin, I was barely resisting the urge to take a knee.

So I just murmured, “I understand that we're on opposing teams.”

“Do you think you're a player?” Dwyer asked, obviously amused.

No. I'm just trying not to be played.

Kian saved me then. “She needs a drink. I'm sure you understand.”

With that, he swept us away from whatever bad intentions the sun god had. I didn't see Wedderburn anywhere, but I recognized one of his minions in the crowd. The peeling white face and the smeared red mouth, along with the frizzy hair, could belong only to the terrifying clown-thing that had been called to execute Kian a few weeks back. I pulled on his arm.

“Is that—”

“Buzzkill,” Kian supplied. “Works for Wedderburn, one of his trusted mercenaries.”

“I can't even imagine how it gets paid.”

“Better if you don't.”

The bruise on my neck throbbed, as if reacting to the implicit threat. From across the room, the monster's eyes met mine, yellow sclera with red veins prominent throughout, and it lifted a gloved hand to blow me a kiss.
Yeah, Wedderburn wants me to know he's still watching.

As promised, Kian found me a bottle of plain water, and it hurt to swallow. I downed all of it so fast my stomach sloshed afterward. I leaned my head on his shoulder, miserable as I'd been since we put my mother in the ground. Yet both symbols on my wrists were quiet, so this must be part of the plan. I
hated
that I had supernatural guidance systems imprinted on my skin.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little. How long have we been here?”

“I'm not sure. But probably not as long as you think.”

“More of the Harbinger's tricks?” I tugged at my clothes, only to notice that they'd shifted back at some point. So … was I wrong before?
Am I wearing the same dress?
The constant unreality might wreck my brain.

“Mostly. I think.”

The Harbinger stopped his bizarre frolicking to clap his hands, and the sound rang out like thunder, much louder than anyone else could achieve with two palms. “We have one final diversion before the feast is ended. Shall I show you?”

Like before, the mob practically destroyed the ballroom with enthusiasm. By then, numbness had taken me over; I could only exist in a state of abject terror for so long. Along with everyone else, I watched as two giant amorphous moth-beasts dragged someone up onto the dais. At first glance, I thought it was a girl but when the person rolled over, I realized it was a boy, probably fourteen or so, and small for his age. Definitely human, unless this was the best illusion ever. His terror was palpable, and it made the immortals nearby stir with avid anticipation.

“
Delicious
,” something with sharp teeth hissed.

The boy came up onto his knees, resting delicate hands on the floor before him in a posture of defeat so abject that I took a step forward. Bruises ringed his throat and his wrists, and what he had on could barely be called clothes; the shirt was torn in three places and the pants had frayed until they hit his knees, revealing filthy calves and feet that were sliced up as if he was routinely forced to walk across broken glass. On his right hand, two of the fingers were bent at unnatural angles, either broken now, or they had been, then they healed badly afterward.

“Kian…,” I whispered. “I don't like where this is going.”

“This one has a most impressive survival instinct,” the Harbinger said, indicating the cowering boy with a flourish. “He's been my favorite pet for some time. But his luck might run out today. Shall we find out?”

The audience rumbled in agreement, and the room changed. I had no explanation for it, but suddenly it seemed as if we'd moved from the ballroom entirely. We were standing outside an arena now with a blood-stained pit below. Bones littered the floor of it, along with broken weapons. Snarls came from the sublevel, enough to chill my blood.

“Time for a bit of fun,” the Harbinger said.

Before I knew what I planned to do, I broke away from Kian. He reached for me but I wasn't stopping. I'd been passive for too long, waiting and hoping that things would get better. It was time for me to fight, even if I didn't know how. Yeah, there might be fallout, but the Harbinger
had
to protect me, right? Even if I interfered with his grisly show.

Scared didn't cover how I felt just then.
This is a death match, a gladiator fight, and you've never even played Mortal Kombat. You don't know shit about knives or swords or whatever. You're probably going to lose. Horribly.

But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I stood by and watched.

When I climbed up on the stage, the Harbinger was a statue, lightning eyes flashing astonishment and displeasure. But he held still and waited for me to play my card. Maybe Dwyer was right, and I'd end up broken if I participated in their game. I only knew that I was sick and tired of being moved on the board.

“He's pretty beat up,” I said. “So let me go instead.”

Kian immediately protested, but the crowd drowned out his yelling. If I knew him, he was volunteering to fight in
my
place. The Harbinger, however, appeared to be considering my offer with a narrowed gaze. On the floor, the boy cowered, staring up at me with bewildered incomprehension. I wondered where he'd come from, how long he'd been an immortal's plaything. That torture might've left him unable to function, yet I wasn't sorry that I'd stepped forward. It felt like the first clean, brave thing I'd done in ages.

After a moment of consideration, the Harbinger turned the question over to the mob. “Let the audience decide. Who will fight to close the feast?” He pulled the boy to his feet, shoving him toward the edge of the dais. “Show your support.”

The crowd responded with a modest round of jeers.

I didn't wait to be dragged forward. Stepping up, I tried to look bold and daring instead of terrified out of my mind. Raising both arms, I struck a champion pose. This was so far outside my comfort zone that it had a different zip code. But my swagger seemed to be working. In response, the monsters hooted and screamed for me; clearly, I'd won this popularity contest.

The Harbinger quieted everyone with a gesture, then he turned to me. I couldn't look directly at him but he had to be beyond pissed. He didn't strike me as the kind who enjoyed being thwarted when he was staging a show.